


The Queensguard

by Totally_not_a_Weeb



Series: The Queensguard-verse [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Armor, Asexual Character, Author Is Not Religious, Canon Lesbian Character, F/F, F/M, Feudalism, Forbidden Love, High Fantasy, Kings & Queens, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Original Characters for days, Other, POV First Person, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Politics, Royalty, Secret Marriage, Swords, The Author Regrets Everything, but not in the way you think, explicit descriptions of armor and weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totally_not_a_Weeb/pseuds/Totally_not_a_Weeb
Summary: The Sister Kingdoms has been at relative unease for a period of twenty years and storm clouds gather on the horizon, in their keeps, Lords and Ladies scheme the downfall of the High Queen or of their peers. With the failing health of the ageing High Queen. There is little that she can do to secure the realm.At least, that is what many think.The Queensguard is a fantasy tale of Heroic Knights and Dashing Rouges, focusing on the foreigner who is both, Willemien of House Purpleheart, a knight in name only.I am begging you to read and to leave me your thoughts.





	1. The Beginning

My name is Willemien of House Purpleheart and I am a Hedge Knight. Though you might not entirely be sure what a Hedge Knight is per say, well as one, no doubt bitter, sellsword put it "take a sellsword and remove the sense" the name comes from the fact that we tend to sleep under hedges as we are roughing it out in the countryside.

 

Though when I say that I'm a Hedge Knight, I'm not saying that I'm the traditional kind of hedge knight, because when one pictures them, they often think of a beautiful knight, clad in her shining steel plate armour with a kite shield over their shoulder displaying their coat of arms. Typically this comes with a horse and a straight sword as well as a lance. The only difference when one imagines a hedge knight to a typical knight is that the hedge knight tends to look a bit dirtier and the horse tends to look like its past its prime, largely because it is.

 

Though when it comes down to it, I don't really look the part of a hedge knight. Instead of the shining steel plate armour, I favour the lighter and smooth studded leather armour over the chest as it allows me to move around, to cover both arms I wear steel manicae, which is a fancy word for steel plates over important parts of the arm. I also make sure to wear a pair of greyish cotton breeches and a pair of leather boots that go over my knees. This gives me something of an interesting appearance as a vagabond rather than a knight. This is not helped by the weapons that I carry, for my left hand, there is a Lindisfarne Steel Longsword, while for my right hand, there is a curved sword made of something called 'Mythril', both of these are fine weapons but they make me look more like an outlandish sellsword.

 

To add to this, most hedge knights have access to a squire, though given the number of hedge knights there are and their compunction to travel in packs, the squire typically ends up carrying the burden of three of her betters. I didn't have a squire, so I had to carry my supplies with me, all in all, the supplies and the cost of maintaining my armour brings it up to a couple of gold ducats a year and did not make me look like some knight who was committed to honour and valour.

 

Though I do have some things in common with my more noble looking brethren, for starters, I am completely reliant on being successful in every battle I partake in due to the fact that I don't really have enough money to pay the ransom for my armour. Another similarity that I have is the fact that the majority of my income comes from tourneys, as such, we tend to carry tokens carrying our coat of arms as they are often required to partake in such tournaments.

 

I should probably get you caught up on the location, I am currently in the rich and ancient city of Summermount, the seat of power within the Sister Kingdoms, a city that truly has two different faces, the first face is the face that the average person sees, all pretty and clean, the smells of the street are somewhat muted and the women of the City Watch are around almost any corner. The sounds of people going around their ordinary lives hang in the air.

 

The second face of the city is not one that I've personally experienced, but I've heard more than a few tales about it, dark and damp, the smells of the city are in full force, beggers line the streets and every five seconds a pickpocket tries their luck, the 'brave' women of the City Watch fear to tread down there and other such things which are surely hyperbolic in language.

 

Though the first face of the city is different today and has been for the past week (and should be for the next week as well) this is because of the fact that there was a large scale tourney going on, with the High Queen herself in attendance and a victor's purse of over a hundred golden ducats, enough money for one to bride a noble, or to hire a small company of sellswords and take over a small town. The difference is that there are more hedge knights, and actual knights, in the city, the street is often awash with armoured women being followed around dutifully by their squires. Travelling peddlers line the streets, plying their trade and enticing customers, young men watch from on top of balconies and comment on the appearance of the knights, gossiping to each other.

 

When the large army of knights made it to the tourney grounds, you would be forgiven for thinking that there was a large scale invasion being planned based on the number of tents that were set up and the room that there was for even more, that was because of the fact that the High Queen, in all of her wisdom, had anticipated a large turnout and was actually correct.

 

When I finally got to talk to one of the clerks organising the event, I placed my emblem, a small weathered piece of wood, painted purple with a white heart in the middle of it, down onto the table and simply stated "My name is Willemien Purpleheart. I'm here to compete for the tourney." the clerk, a blonde girl who was actually very pretty, in that bookish sense, looked up at me with her brown eyes she scanned my appearance twice.

 

"I take it your here for single combat?" Her voice was somewhat sweet but she sounded tired and bored in equal measure.

 

"Yeah." I responded, shrugging "I left my lance and horse at home." I added jokingly.

 

"None of the sass." She responded, sounding a bit annoyed "Right Dame Willemein, move along." She jerked her head to the side for emphasis and I complied, it made no sense to piss off the clerk, not when I could piss off other knights instead.

 

Taking a seat on one of the nearby barrels, I turned and tried to scout out any potential competition. The first knight that I saw was one of those North Sheyethen Knights, you could tell because they were always so glum,  the other identifying feature was the fact that she was wearing a black coat of plates and dull metal arm guards and greaves, as was typical for that glum nation. She was actually more of a knight than I was, for starters she had a rather heavy looking kite shield slung over her shoulder, in her left hand she held a barbuta helmet, easily identifiable from the 'T' shaped hole to allow for breathing and sight. At her side was a rather simple looking short sword and, as was customary for those glum pricks, she had a war axe tucked under her belt, what the meaning behind it is, I don't know. The knight herself was rather attractive looking, she had those wonderful fair features and pale skin (no doubt the result of the helmet), her hair was rather long and was braided slightly in order to shorten it and was a nice earthy brown colour, similar to her eyes.

 

The second knight I saw was similar to me in many respects, in the case where she didn't actually look like a knight, she wore brown breeches, brown knee-high boots, brown gloves, a brown padded vest and a white flowing tunic. At her hip was an infamous rapier. I felt my eyes narrow at the sight of the thin blade, so she was one from the Dritia Republic, which somehow made everything seem infinitely worse. She had long, strawberry blonde hair that was tied up into a high ponytail, her skin was sunkissed from all the travelling that she probably did and her eyes were a light blue colour, similar to ice.

 

Not that many interesting knights came through after them, it was the typical knight of the Sister Kingdoms, shining steel plate armour that weighed about as much as they were prideful, which is to say that it weighed a ton. There was the occasional Cappadocian Knight, but they were not all that different from their counterparts in the Sister Kingdoms but tended to act less prideful but more pious.

 

There were only three more interesting knights, the first one was a ginger knight, the first thing that was noticeable about her was the fact that she was missing an eye. Her mane of hair was like the colour of the setting sun and was wild and untamed, her single remaining eye was a pale green that looked like it had seen the world. She was wearing a rather large fur-lined cloak that was about as weathered as she was, underneath was a surcoat with dull iron plates with hundreds of notches on it. I recognised the design on the Surcoat instantly, a black sparrow on a purple background, that was the sign of the Company of the Sparrow, which meant that it was likely that this knight was Rose the Lionheart, a brave knight whose bravery is only matched by her mysteriousness as no one was quite sure where she came from, though everyone had their theories.

 

The second most interesting competitor was another Ginger, this one was like the perfect definition of a storybook princess, long flowing hair that always looked windswept, a lovely curvy body that shows despite, or because, of her fitted shining plate armour. At her hip was a Longsword but what was of interest was her token, it was the token of the royal family and her voice was powerful and picked up by everyone present. "My name is Mirel Zaealix, I wish to compete in the tourney." With those words, it was obvious that I was in for some serious competition, it was the High Queen's daughter, Mirel the skull-taker, called Mirel the Bastard behind her back, already an accomplished warrior at the young age of twenty.

 

The most interesting was a knight who refused to take off their helmet, they were dressed like a North Sheyethen knight, war axe, coat of plates and all, though instead of the barbuta helmet, they wore a most likely stuffy barrel helm that covered the entirety of the head. They stood taller than any woman in the tourney by a few inches. At their hip was the tale-tell sheath of a greatsword. Their deep and gravely voice rung out from underneath the helmet "I am Helias Winter. I wish to compete in the tourney." It was at that moment that it hit me, that was a man, competing in a Sister Kingdoms tourney, then I remembered that he was of North Sheyethen, they were odd like that.

 

It sounded like the opening of a bad joke, a princess, a merc, a man and a Welescan walk into a bar… though it did leave me wondering what the punch line would be.


	2. The Dance between the Armoured Bastion and the Purpleheart

There's much that could be said about the extravagance of Summermount's arena that couldn't be said about many arenas, apparently, it dated back to before the Rising of  High Prophet Joan and was constructed by the Empire of the Dawn and it showed in the architecture.

 

The masonry was miles ahead of anything I've ever seen in any kingdom or duchy, all around there were weathered statues to deities or heroes whose names have long passed from this world, there was plenty of seating capacity and it could actually fit the entirety of the competitors for the Tourney in two lines.

 

Up at the royal box, the seat that would've housed the princess to the High Queen was obviously empty, but so was the High Queen's throne. Though next to her throne was a smaller chair, in which sat Count Edward the Unbreaking, an old warrior of some renown, though he was often referred to as the 'Uncrowned Consort of the Sister Kingdoms' based off the open secret that was his relationship with the High Queen. A relationship that was apparent when one looked at the bright orange hair that Mirel had.

 

Suddenly, with the blast of trumpets, the High Queen stepped into the royal box. She was just as beautiful as she was rumoured to be, though it might just be from the shock of seeing her in person for the first time, she was a brunette, or at least, was a brunette during the days of her youth, now the majority of her hairs were a light grey and tied into a long braided ponytail, her eyes that burned with intelligence even from so far away were a light grey colour. Her skin was almost as pale as snow, possibly due to her infamous aversion to going outside and also due to her rumoured poor health. Despite the fact that she was in her mid-fifties, there were barely any wrinkles that were visible on her face and many believed that she had unlocked some dread magic to make her live forever, not like that would be true, she would hardly choose the form of her fifties if she was to live forever, I had heard that she was quite attractive when she was young. But now she was High Queen Sophia the Peacemaker, an ageing woman, wearing purple robes and the large ruby and sapphire encrusted crown of her station.

 

"Ladies and Lords of the Realm." She began "On this day, forty years ago, I was elected by the ladies and lords of the realm to rule over them and guide them as High Queen of the Sister Kingdoms. I have never forgotten the confidence that was placed in me by my Sisters in the faith and I have never forgiven myself for the misfortune that we as a people united in faith have suffered during my reign." She held a hand to a heart "It tore my heart in two when our Sisters and Daughters went to war with each other, tearing each other apart and shattering Kingdoms over a simple difference in how the Goddess should be exalted." She removed her hand from her heart "I call this tourney today, as perhaps the last act I will be able to make as High Queen and I humbly beg both you and the Goddess for forgiveness for my errors in ruling those who remain faithful to the Goddess who is known as Gaia and hope that this tourney will be enough to please you." She finished solemnly, I had heard rumours of the fact that the High Queen was known as the 'Queen who Never Sleeps' because of her diligence, but it was different to see her putting the blame of all the mistakes of the past forty years on her back.

 

Mirel, who was standing next to me, muttered something that I couldn't quite make out. The competitors stood awkwardly around as they waited for the first match to be announced, this function was taken up by Count Edward, who stood up from his chair and opened his mouth "The first match will be Dame Willemien Purpleheart against Sir Helias Winter." That did not sound good.

 

The rest of the competitors cleared the field as both of us stood opposite to each other and were given blunted tournament blades. I was given a longsword and another longsword, the balance of the blades wasn't quite right and I would still have to adjust to the balancing of it, but I felt that it was alright, provided I got past this round.

 

My opponent, Helias, was given a blunted greatsword, I wasn't entirely sure what good blunting such a weapon would do as it could still easily be lethal if it hit me. I swung both my blades around in my hand to get used to the balance of them. Helias simply put the blade up to his head and probably muttered something, before burying the top of the blade into the dirt, standing at a slight ready position, clearly ready to kick the blade up the second he got the chance.

 

"BEGIN!" the Good Count shouted and for me, everything in the world faded from creation aside from the massive man in front of me.

 

I would have to make use of my speed and agility if I want to stand a chance, he held the strength advantage and would be able to win if this turned into a contest of strength or endurance in slugging matches, while he also held the range advantage on the account of him being tall and the fact that he was holding a greatsword like it was a child's toy. He kicked the blade upwards into a ready position which I would give him, looked and was intimidating and somewhat stylish. I stood my ground as I knew that if I was going to win this I would need to tire the man out.

 

He charged towards me, obviously telegraphing his move and I thanked the Goddess for my light armour as I danced out of the way, he lashed out swinging his sword in a horizontal arc, causing me to jump backwards, the swing barely missing my chest. I was now about at what would be the perfect range for him, I was in the range of his sword, but I wasn't able to get at him.

 

A downwards diagonal cut came closer as well and I found myself moving backwards, giving him some more ground as I tried to keep myself in one piece. With a shout, he thrust his sword forwards, I moved aside the blade and went for his left flank, only to find myself hit in the stomach with the pommel of his greatsword.

 

The hit sent me to the ground, in no small part due to the fact that he was a strong bastard and I quickly rolled out the way of his follow-up attack. A downwards swing of his sword, similar to that of an executioner.  I quickly got up in time to find myself bringing the longsword in my left hand up to try to block his horizontal swing, I would admit, that my left hand hurt, but it wasn't something that I couldn't deal with. My right sword struck like a viper and hit him in the coat of plate, it didn't do much but there was a satisfaction that I got before I had to dodge to the left of his counter-attack and then duck under his next diagonal swing.

 

I had to admit that victory here wouldn't come from keeping my distance, he held all the advantages if I kept my distance, not that longswords did much good for close quarters though. His next attack, a forward thrust with his sword, left his flanks open and due to how close I was, I moved to the right of him and slammed both my swords down onto his unprotected legs. Causing him to make a sound that was similar to that of pain, not that I could really tell, the only sound that was apparent was his screams as he moved closer. I strafed to the side as he recovered from being hit in the back of the leg, but I did get greedy and treated him to another parting slash to the leg from my longsword.

 

I was punished for my greed when I was hit in the stomach, this time by the crossguard of his greatsword. He was quicker on the downward slash, I abandoned one of my longswords and brought the other one up to guard against his slashes, using both my hands to guard like it was a quarterstaff.  And again and again and again, my arm is throbbing and I'm sure that he was trying to overwhelm me, such a shame that he was not exactly the fastest knight in the Kingdoms, though it's not like I'm the best knight as I was currently trying to find a way out of this mess.

 

As he brought his sword down again, I rolled to the side and gave a quick swipe at his unarmoured legs something that was enough to give him enough pause to allow for me to get up and ignore the throbbing in my arms, I held my remaining longsword in both hands, knowing that it was unlikely that I would be unable to get my other blade off the ground without being knocked back down.

 

He charged forward, making use of his overwhelming strength, I dodged to the side of his movements, causing him to turn his back to me. I swung my blade hard and hit him in the back of his head, which was protected by his helmet, it had a resounding clang sound and it made him become a lot less steady on his feet and I swung my sword again, this time hitting his legs. The next sound was a surprisingly soft thudding sound as he fell to the ground.

 

"Yield," I said, finally, trying not to let the fact that I was heaving for breath register in my voice. To emphasise my command, my left foot found its way onto his back.

 

"I Yield. I Yield." He said, his voice sounded hurt and defeated, I wouldn't be able to see his face as he, quite impressively, kept his helmet on despite all of this, I must find his armoursmith and compliment the woman (or man, considering). I finally tuned back into the rest of the world and heard that some people were clapping my performance. While others were muttering things. Though most interesting was the fact that the High Queen was clapping,

 

"Well done Dame Willemien," She said, she mispronounced my name but I didn't want to correct literally the most powerful person on the Continent over that in front of everyone. "and well done to you as well Sir Helias, that was a valiant fight, however, the match must go to Dame Willemien Purpleheart." There was something satisfying about hearing of one's victory despite the fact that you should be flat on your back.

 

Helias put his hand to the bottom of his helmet and opened it up, revealing a rather hideous set of scars on what would be considered to be an attractive face. "Thank you, your Majesty." He bowed to the Queen. I gave the queen a fencer's salute and a rather shallow bow myself.

 

"Your Majesty," I said, before taking my leave. I like to think that I made a friend today, I might very much be wrong in this regard, those Northerners keep grudges and there was no greater shame to them then losing, or was that only in the case of those from South Sheyethen, I couldn't exactly remember and most didn't really care for the politics surrounding the area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is getting out of control I just wrote both chapters in the same day, that is not something I do for my other fic (then again, I actually have to make sure that the Characterisation is on point for that one) Guess what Helias was supposed to be a walking reference to, it shouldn't be that hard.
> 
> Also, how do you like me writing sword fights, I don't, there's a reason why I don't like writing combat, but hey, if you guys are entertained then I don't mind.
> 
> Be sure to leave a Kudos, Comment, etc.


	3. The Lionheart against the Blade of the Free

I had to admit, for being a man, Helias was stronger than the Vanquisher and it showed, in the tent that was provided for me I could take a look at my wounds from the match, undoing a few buckles I could see that there were two large bruises on my stomach, both were obviously from when he hit me in the fight.

 

I looked around the tent that I was provided, there was a rack for weapons where my real swords were stored. There was a plain cot with brownish sheets, aside from that there was very little. The off-colour white fabric of the tent cast everything in a low light. I sat down on my bed and wondered who I would have to talk to get my bruises treated. I heard a cough behind me and jumped.

 

Looking behind me, I saw a rather bookish looking lad with short raven hair with a fringe that covered his left eye. The eye that was visible was a hazel colour, looking further down on his face, I noticed a small scar on lip though it was noticeable because it went through the lad's rather pathetic attempt at a goatee. The man was dressed in the white robes of one of those healers, though it should be mentioned that the robes of the healer did not suit him in the slightest and he looked rather uncomfortable in the robes. In his left hand was a book and his right hand was a brown bag.

 

"Do you normally stand in people's tents silently?" I asked him, it was disturbing who he was able to hide in white robes.

 

"No, I saw that you were knocked to the ground twice in your match with Sir Helias and thought that you would have need of the services of a healer." He said, his voice was quiet and flowed like water.

 

"Okay, why not?" I urged, he opened the bag and knelt in front of me, he set the bag down on the ground. "Got a name boy?" I asked

 

"I have no name, milady, none that would interest you."  He answered, "I am merely here to heal your bruises, please try to avoid getting hit in the stomach again."

 

Cheeky git. Though it did raise the question of him having no name, what was I supposed to call him? Healer, boy, lad? This man was somewhat suspicious. I was trying to tell where he was from with his accent. "I guess I'll call you boy, then." He looked somewhat annoyed at that and I felt a slight bit of pain at my stomach and then some more. I looked down and same him applying some sort of salve at my bruises. I hissed as he touched my bruises with his fingertips that were covered in the salve, I had to admit, this would be a very awkward scene to be spotted in, but thankfully, he was rather quick, if very rough, about applying the salve.

 

"That should do it." He said, picking up and closing his bag. "Remember to not get hit in the stomach and maybe get some heavier armour." He added as he left.

 

"Don't I need a bandage or something?"

 

"Frankly, no. If they are not bleeding then we are instructed to not use bandages and if you don't mind, I have to get to Sir Helias, most of the healers won't touch him." He exited my tent and I found myself confused about the last statement, why wouldn't most of the healers talk to Helias, I get that he is six feet something of muscle and probably unbridled rage, that or the boy was probably the only healer in the camp.

 

I got out of my tent, making sure to bring my curved sword with me, just in case someone wanted to try something, as my many months on the road has told me, you tend to guarantee your safety when you are visibly armed.

 

When I arrived at the arena, I saw that there was a match in progress, it was one of those Cappaodican knights against Dame Rose the Lionheart and the one who apparently had the heart of a lion was winning, using a bastard sword in her right hand, she was basically playing with the Cappadocian, who was wielding a short sword and shield, at least I assume that was her shield that was left on the ground a few metres away from the duelling knights.

 

"C'mon get up." Rose said, walking around the Cappadocian slowly, "C'mon, I want a proper fight, all I've got is a warm-up."  The Cappadocian got up slowly. "There we go."  Rose let the other knight get up as she watched with a bored expression on her face, though her remaining eye shone with amusement.

 

"You'll pay for mocking a knight of Cappadocia." The other knight said, standing shakily and holding her short sword in two hands. Rose looked rather unimpressed

 

"Really? How, with gold or silver?" It didn't take a genius to figure out that Rose was trying to get her opponent angry, that or she was just screwing around. The other knight charged forward at the ginger merc. Who simply walked past the charge, and brought her spare hand up to yawn. "I'm curious, who the hell trained you? I thought you Cappadocians won your independence with force of arms, guess I was wrong."

 

"I was trained by Archduchess Joan the Liberator herself." The Knight said, there was an attempt to put pride into her voice but with how shaky the knight was standing, such attempts at pride did not work all that well.

 

"When you get back to Cappadocia, tell your Archduchess that she did a shit job." The Cappadocian swung her sword with both hands at Rose who rather lazily blocked the swing with her bastard sword. "Yep, sloppy." She swung her sword to the side and left the knight open, an opportunity that Rose used to swing her bastard sword at the helmet of the other knight. Knocking the knight to the ground and knocking her helmet off, revealing the knight's short brown hair and tanned skin. "Come on get up, I refuse to hit a downed opponent." The merc said the knight got up again, her brown hair getting into her face.

 

"I swear in the name of the Goddess, you will pay for this." She said, clearly angry, though it was obvious to everyone with a set of eyes that Rose's victory was an inevitability.

 

"Alright, come at me," Rose said, moving her right hand to the side and opening herself up to an attack. An opportunity that the brunette took advantage of and charged forward with an overhead swing and a scream on her lips. A swing that Rose caught with her left hand. There was a brief moment of silence as the brunette realised what was happening, there is not a word in the common tongue to describe the look on her face or my amusement. Rose forced the knight to the ground and held out her bastard sword to the brunette's neck, despite the fact that it was a blunted tourney sword, everyone knew that such weapons could still be lethal and she gulped loudly.

 

"I yield." She said solemnly, her voice sounded defeated. The bastard sword was removed from her throat and Rose rested the weapon on her shoulder and looked rather smug. Her left hand was used to drag the brunette up onto her feet.

 

I started clapping, while I wasn't exactly all down for playing in a tournament, I was down for the fact that it seemed that Rose, despite being a sellsword, was still honourable. Some people in the stands started clapping as well, though some of the ladies in the stands started jeering Rose. "Thank you, thank you." She said sarcastically "I'll be here all week."

 

"That was a... spirited match, Dame Rose and Dame Isabella," Edward said, "But I'm afraid that the match will have to go to Dame Rose the Lionheart, despite her taunting." Dame Rose gave a rather drawn out and ceremonial bow, while Isabella gave a shaky bow as she struggled to stand.

 

I winced when I realised that it was likely that Rose was going to be a piece of hard competition.  She stepped off the arena with a confident stride, Isabella behind her, begging to become Rose's apprentice.

 

I noticed that the other North Sheyethen knight was next to me, looking at the arena "Nice performance out there." She said, looking at me "Didn't think that someone would be able to beat my half-brother."

 

"That giant is your brother?" I asked it was hard to imagine that large man as related to this woman. She looked amused.

 

"I'm not actually related to him. I just wanted to see the look on your face, trust me it was funny." She said, "Though nice performance though."

 

"What was so special about Sir Helias?" I asked, I don't really see North Sheyethen knights outside the Kingdom unless they have a reason.

 

"Sir Helias? Please, just call him the Gentle Giant, you would only improve his ego if you call him a knight," she sighed, though I wondered how he got the nickname 'the Gentle Giant' "he wanted to come with me to see Summermount, the tourney was just an excuse that I used to get him away from his master."

 

"Who was his master?" I could ask about the Gentle Giant bit later.

 

"Only one of the most famous swordmasters in North Sheyethen, Lord Robin the Clever" She spoke of him with quite a bit of pride, she then noticed my inquisitive look "I never said that Helias was a good student." There was a blast of trumpets as the next match was being announced.

 

"Lady Alica of Dritia and Countess Maria of House Ravenwood." The announcer, Count Edward said, his voice clear.

 

Alica was the blonde fencer I saw on my way in, she was given a rather thin tourney blade that fitted her build, she was dressed in the same clothes that she was in yesterday. Though she entered with a half-cloak that covered the right side of her torso, showing what was obviously her coat of arms, depicting a white dog on a red background.

 

On the other side of the field, there was Countess Maria, wearing all the normal pompous armour of the Knights of the Sister Kingdoms, it was polished so much that it almost seemed to glow in the daylight. Maria had obviously decided that a helmet was overrated and decided that instead, she would sport her blood-red hair in a messy bun, her skin was tan and in her hands, there was a longsword in her left and a heater shield on her right, odd. The heater depicted the coat of arms of her house, a black raven on a white wooden beam upon a red background. As she stepped into the arena she held up her sword and gave a fencer's salute to the seated nobles around the arena.

 

Alica withdrew her thin blade from under her cloak, though one would be forgiven for not noticing that she had a small parrying dagger in her left hand.

 

This was going to be a fun duel to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, turns out this story is more fun to me than I initially thought. I think this might continue on for a while


	4. Dritian Fencers and Storytime

The Duel began with a word and both combatants went on the offensive, the Countess charged with an overhead swing of her sword, leaving her chest exposed, while the fencer lunged forward with all the famous speed of the Dritian fencers, her parrying dagger went upwards in the air and caught the longsword between the prongs of the dagger, while the rapier stopped short of the Countess' throat.

 

There was a small beat where no one moved and silence reigned over the arena, I'm pretty sure that everyone here was shocked at the speed of the match. The only movement I think I saw was the smirk that etched its way onto the blonde's face.

 

There was an old proverb relating to the Republics Fencer's "To underestimate a fencer is to invite death." It seemed that it was an accurate statement if they had been duelling to the death and using live steel, then the Countess would most certainly be dead at this point.

 

"I believe this is where you yield, my lady." The fencer, Alica, said with all the smugness that one would assume that one of those bloody fencers had.

 

The Countess wordlessly yielded and flat out retreated from the arena in shame. There was another beat of silence where everyone had decided that something odd had happened and that it was best not to talk about it. Alica gave a small fencer's salute to the High Queen and her Count, before sheathing her sword and dagger with a rather theatrical flourish. I silently hoped that I wouldn't have to face her in a duel, she seemed like she'd be able to kill you in seconds.

 

I excused myself from the North Sheyethen Knight and went to find the other knight from the odd northern lands.

 

After spending a few minutes walking through the small maze of tents, I found one with the crest that Helias Winter uses. Opening the tent flap I saw that Helias was getting his legs treated by that healer boy.

 

It would be a very compromising position if they were the type of people who enjoyed something like that.

 

I made my presence known with a slight cough, both of them looked up at me, "Sir Helias, Boy." I nodding to both of them respectively, "Could I have a word?"

 

"Of course, Arthur." Helias said, nodding to the healer.

 

"A few more seconds, milady did a good job of bruising your legs." the healer, Arthur, evidentially, mumbled from within the legs of the male knight. "Goddess above, she really did something to the back of your legs, the joint here is purple and swollen."

 

Both us and the knight waited awkwardly as Arthur was really getting into the job of applying the salve, Helias looked oddly red-faced at this. A few seconds afterwards, Arthur finished applying the salve, standing up, he placed the container in the bag and then dusted himself off, he also looked somewhat redfaced as well. Bowing, he excused himself from the tent with a simple "Milord, milady,"  The healer left both me and the giant alone in the tent.

 

"So..." he said, holding his barrel helmet in his hands, "what do you want to talk about?"

 

"Um..." I began, shifting slightly on one foot "I heard from that other North Sheyethen knight that you trained under Lord Robin the Clever."

 

"Ah, Anna, she does tend to spill the beans like that. So what do you want to know about training under Lord Robin?"

 

"Lord Robin is an interesting man, clever, as his name implies, but interesting. He would train us with sticks, but he never trained us in the same way, he would make students paint areas that they only got a small look at in order to memorise locations, he made me duel with him in the close quarters of his basement and in his hallways." He sighed "His training was centred around taking advantage of our strengths, in my case, strength and reach, then placing us in areas where my strength and reach would prove to be a disadvantage."

 

"So was it his idea to use a greatsword?" I asked

 

"I believe he would've preferred a traditional Sheyethen bastard sword or a typical longsword, I, on the other hand, figured that hey, I won't be in tight spaces, so I decided to go with the largest sword I could find." He said, looking slightly bemused at it "It was the second largest sword in the keep, his largest sword, what he called a zweihander, was being sharpened by him when he left, or he was practising with it."

 

Ah, the Zweihander, whoever in Welesca came up with such a sword was one large bastard and one who was uncreative, a sword easily taller than the average knight and requiring two hands to hold it, no matter how tall or strong one was. "Ah," I said, "I've been wondering, the war axe under your belt. Why do you lot carry those around with you?" He looked self-conscious for a second as he grabbed his war axe off the bed.

 

"Count Ywain the Bastard, that's why." He threw the axe up and caught it "It's meant to be blunt, but most keep it sharp in case. When a knight has a quarrel, they are to throw this at their opponent and it functions similarly to throwing down the gauntlet. Count Ywain, who was behind the reforms to the military, decided that it was mandatory for all knights to keep it on their person, he also happened to have a habit of throwing the axe at the person who he had a quarrel with." He tested the weight of the axe in his hand before catching it again, "It sort of became customary to keep the war axe tucked into the belt after a while. I don't really deserve to carry it as I'm not actually a knight."

 

"Yeah, your fighting style spoke of an attempt to use overwhelming power instead of making use of any particular real skill, no offence." I said, then paused "Though it's not like I can argue with that, my style isn't very knightly either."

 

Helias took in what I was saying and I noticed his eyes drifted down to my curved sword, "I've never seen a sword like it..." he muttered looking at it "Could you please show it to me?"

 

"Sure," I said, grinning like an idiot, it was rare that I got to show this thing off. Grabbing the hilt with my right hand and the sheath in the left, I unsheathed it in one smooth motion, the dull black of the mythril barely caught any light, I tossed the brown leather sheath to the side and spun the weapon in my hand, "This, my friend," I began, spinning the weapon, throwing it up into the air, it spun like a whee and I caught the weapon in my left, holding it at the guard position, pointing towards Helias, "is 'Crescent Moon', it’s a Shashka if memory serves." I grabbed the sheath from off the ground and sheathed it with a flourish "Not many weapons like this exist in the world." I said, my voice thick with admiration.

 

"How'd you get it then?"

 

"It was a few years back" I looked and found a small chair to sit myself down on, "I was sixteen at the time, still naive and just out of my education in the ways of war, most Gaians undergo a year as a sellsword for initiation, I did as well, but instead of a large company, I joined up with Sir Denis the Nutcracker"

 

"Wait," Helias said, waving his hands "you fought alongside the Nutcracker?"

 

"I admit, I was young and not that skilled, it was more a case of fought under him, then fought alongside him, I was actually there when he got that title." I smiled despite myself, those were some fun times, "It was in the Archduchy of Cappadocia if memory serves, Sir Denis Bruce, as he was called at the time, was making his way through one of those old dungeons that you can find, you know, those Dawnish tombs, the kind which often plays host to bandits. I was wielding a short sword and a kite shield at the time. It was then that I came across him, the fearsome bandit, George the Hammerhand, in his right hand with his famous war-hammer, smasher, though at his hip, was this blade. I tried to take him on myself, he had me on the ropes most of the time, he had range and he knew it, instead of circle strafing him like a sensible person, I tried to charge him head-on."

 

"You've got to be making this up, you charged Hammerhand and lived? Bullshit."

 

"I don't interrupt your stories, don't interrupt mine." I said sternly, "I charged him head-on, surprising him, I owe everything to my old kite shield that I didn't find myself with a condensed head and brain, I managed to block the first swing of his war-hammer, but his follow-up managed to knock me to the ground, Sir Denis, who had obviously finished with whatever random bandit he was killing, ran to face Hammerhand in single combat, though he did later insist that it was to my aid, I don't believe him for a second on that account." I snickered, "The two of them duelled for a solid minute, neither of them able to get an edge, then Hammerhand swung downward, Denis moved out of the way, swung his hammer upwards and then there was a loud, wet cracking sound, Hammerhand got hit in the nuts, he bet over and I stabbed him in the back of the throat with my short sword."

 

"You backstabbed Hammerhand and stole a kill from the Nutcracker? And that somehow got you that sword?"

 

"Like I said about stories and interrupting, yeah, I managed to get Crescent Moon from Hammerhand afterwards, Sir Denis was grateful for the help even though I knew that he didn't need it. In case you're wondering, this is how he got the title, some of the women back in camp started to call him that jokingly, to his shame, it stuck. I remember he complained once saying 'I've been adventuring for four years and no title, then I accidentally hit one man in the balls and suddenly, I'm the Nutcracker' I remember he named his war-hammer 'Eternal Shame' afterwards, he became very famous afterwards, I left a few years afterwards, Crescent Moon has stayed with me the whole time." I finished, "A few years later and I'm here, listening to you doubting me."

 

"Okay, let's say this story is true, then why don't you use it often, you preferred to fight with a longsword as was shown in the Tourney."

 

"It's a bit embarrassing, but I think that I really don't deserve this, it's fun to show it off. That and this is an old blade, the best bet that some could place would be at the very least three-centuries-old, I don't want to break it in battle."

 

There was a moment of silence as the conversation sort of drifted off to a close, I looked around the tent, his armour was sitting on a stand, a bit dirty from the fight, but it looked rather alright, the coat of plates always interested me, hundreds of small plates of metal, placed together in fabric. It was an interesting piece of armour that was produced. The North/South Divide between the Knights of Sheyethen was interesting, the Northerners wore a black armour that was decided for practical means, while the Southerners wore shining steel plate inscribed with words from holy texts as well.

 

"So ... how's the leg?" I asked, "I hope you understand that it was the only way to actually bring you down."

 

"I understand that, but my leg is alright, hurts like hell, but that cream that Arthur provided is making it hurt a lot less." He said, his face was slightly red at the mention of the healer

 

"How'd you get his name, all he gave me was 'I have no name, milady, none that would interest you'," I said, giving a slight impression of the healer "then the first time you even interact and you get his name. Goddess above, you should've been a diplomat with such skills." Helias wasn't responding, he was just caught in a case of clearly overthinking a conversation from before, mumbling some things about Arthur and 'pretty boys' apparently. "Nevermind, I must beg my leave." I said, leaving quickly.

 

When I exited the tent, I saw Arthur standing outside looking rather annoyed.

 

"So ... Arthur, I'm pretty sure that there is a Cappadocian that needs your help."

 

"If only she would let me, the idiot is still begging to become the Lionheart's apprentice." He sighed "So she's denying treatment, I might as well treat the Giant while he's here."

 

Of course, that's your reason." I said, "I'm not stopping you." I stepped aside, the healer moved past me. Walking around the tents, I could've sworn that I saw a small flash of black and gold move around the tent line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This keyboard needs to be removed from my hands this instant, but yet I continue to type, I have no reason to give as for why I continue typing, perhaps the gods will be able to tell, or maybe I need to continue typing to find the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> So guess who had a new idea that suddenly trumped all preexisting priorities and demanded to be written. Also, guess who fucked up on their word document and had to re-write this entire fucking chapter.
> 
> I digress, I had fun writing this. It's been floating around my head for a while but the week of stress and little sleep known as exam week has passed, so it must be posted now.
> 
> Be sure to leave a kudos and give me your opinions because they matter. Anyway, happy Pride Month.


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